


Vashoth

by Nebulad



Series: Sataareth [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, meet cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 10:47:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7681423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nebulad/pseuds/Nebulad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Qunari,” she spat, her chest heaving now because she’d never… seen one before. Besides a few homesick Tal-Vashoth, or some so incensed by their own abandonment of the Qun that they turned to banditry… She’d never seen an actual follower.</p><p>“Yeah, all right, yes I’m a Qunari but just listen—”</p><p>She swung out wide, forgetting altogether that she had a staff, and flames jumped as high as his horns in between them. She darted back, her heart pounding as she scrambled ungracefully towards where her team stood. “We have to go,” she said shortly, while Cassandra gaped at the wall of fire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vashoth

When Cremisius Aclassi had described his captain, Tama had assumed the man was a Tal-Vashoth. A human wouldn’t know the difference, and Qunari generally didn’t have a habit of moving south to start mercenary groups. Cooperating with humans was also a strike against his adherence to the Qun, so she was comfortable approaching him— excited, even, although it was embarrassing to admit. Her people were always slow to approach humans, especially… fanatical ones.

The prospect of another Vashoth working for the Inquisition, even if they never spoke, was comforting: someone who didn’t flinch when she approached, or stammer in fear when she tried to join a conversation. They’d actually be able to _speak_ with each other, not limited by Tama’s inability to speak the Common.

When she saw him for the first time, she figured that he was definitely Tal-Vashoth. He had all the discipline of a trained soldier but none of the dourness. He laughed while he worked, physically picking up Venatori agents and throwing them into each other. Mages scrambled away from his warhammer yet he was nimble enough to keep up with them.

He did stumble, a bit, when Tama added her fire to the mix. She waved, to mark herself as friendly— certainly he’d been expecting her. Vashoth wielding fire and human companions didn’t simply wander into fights. Vivienne took up across from her, using her ice to strategically complement the flames Tama kept steady (they really would have to _practice_ that— she’d hate for Lady Vivienne to be carrying both of them in battle), while Cassandra charged. Varric disappeared somewhere, but she didn’t sacrifice the focus to keep track of him.

When the last of the cultists fell, Tama pulled back. This was always the first lesson with her father— _bring the fire back to you and hold it. Envision the flame returning to you._ The magic abated and she rolled her shoulders, turning to face Vivienne while the Chargers organised themselves. “Bunch of piss-poor mages for a country that’s supposedly so enlightened,” she said, nudging a dead one at her feet with her foot. Vivienne snorted.

“Indeed, although I suppose that if you could float by on using the blood of others as your power source you would never _need_ to learn how to cast effectively,” she said, then looked over her shoulder at The Iron Bull leaning on the hammer. “I believe the two of you have a language in common?” she asked. She’d graciously accepted the role as Tama’s translator, having the skill of both Common and Orlesian.

“We should,” Tama agreed, hoping she didn’t sound as… eager as she thought. “Let Varric finish up going through their pockets, split with the Chargers if they wish.” She was at least used to giving these sorts of orders— she had no idea what to say when her advisors asked her opinion on the dissonance in the Chantry, but she’d led a few squads in her time.

“Just call if you need something, darling.” With that she turned to return to where Cassandra was wiping down her sword, presumably to do the same with the blade at the end of her staff. Tama would just… let hers be, for now. Who knew what they would face on the way back to Skyhold, and she had no such standards for the cleanliness of her weapon. She barely used the thing, preferring the rawness of gesture-casting… admittedly a difficult thing to explain to a mage of any other race. Solas, for all his curiosity, was strangely adamant about his staff.

Tama turned, finally approaching The Iron Bull who was still waiting for her. He was… a big man, to put it bluntly. He had a round stomach held back by a wide belt, broad shoulders and thick, muscular arms. In fairness, he was obviously a warrior… which didn’t do a lot to make Tama feel any bigger. _Vashedan,_ even his _horns_ were huge. She’d thought _she_ had trouble sleeping.

He grinned at her (another point against being Qunari) and didn’t straighten up which was a weird relief. She supposed it would have been respectful for him to greet her properly, but she was… _so_ sick of people dancing around her recently. “The Chantry must just lo-ve you,” he said in Orlesian (just a little sloppy, with a Qunlat accent), obviously pleased by the idea of a Vashoth Herald. She hadn’t seen the humour in it yet, but she was certain it would come once her position became less… doomy.

“ _Shanedan,”_ she greeted, like her mother had taught her. There were rules, gestures adhered to when two Vashoth outside the Qun met. She crossed one arm over her chest, bumping her fist to her collarbone.

He… responded in Common.

“Ah, no— I’m sorry I don’t speak…” she trailed off, nerves fluttering in her gut. Even if she couldn’t understand his words, she should have been able to receive his returning gesture. All he had to do was mimic her to identify himself as Vashoth outside the Qun— he _had_ to know, he’d been running this merc band for _years._

“Really? Heard you worked with your own team,” he said skeptically.

“In… Orlais,” she offered hesitantly. _Just respond and we can get to business._ It would be difficult to explain to Cassandra why she refused to speak with The Chargers until their leader reciprocated some subtle gesture instead of just… leaning.

“I can do Orlesian,” he agreed. He didn’t seem as confident as he had with Common. “Like I was saying, Qunlat makes my boys a bit nervous, you know?” He was smiling again and Tama felt her gut clench.

“Did you… hear me, before?” she asked slowly. This was never supposed to happen— _everyone_ in the south was outside the Qun. Either this man was flaunting the established rules or… which didn’t make _sense_ because if he… what would he even be _doing_ here?

“Yeah, I heard— no worries, I’m all up on my Qunlat.” He was handsome with his lazy grin, but Tama’s nerves were steadily spiking. He wasn’t going to return the gesture, which meant either he’d been living in a complete _void_ of his people or…

 _Merde,_ what was he even _doing_ here?

She took a step back and he seemed to realize that he’d done… something wrong. “Have you been among your people since moving south?” she asked, in Qunlat because she didn’t care if it made humans nervous.

He finally straightened up which made him even bigger, so she took another few steps back. “Look, calm down. Let’s just take a seat and I can explain some things,” he said slowly, tilting his head back to demonstrate he wasn’t a threat (she had to _remember_ that after all this time in Haven where humans without horns bowed their heads).

“Qunari,” she spat, her chest heaving now because she’d never… seen one before. Besides a few homesick Tal-Vashoth, or some so incensed by their own abandonment of the Qun that they turned to banditry… She’d never seen an actual follower.

“Yeah, all right, yes I’m a Qunari but just listen—”

She swung out wide, forgetting altogether that she had a staff, and flames jumped as high as his horns in between them. She darted back, her heart pounding as she scrambled ungracefully towards where her team stood. “We have to go,” she said shortly, while Cassandra gaped at the wall of fire.

“Herald, the Chargers are _allies,”_ she burst, despite her lack of context. Vivienne translated for her, looking disapprovingly over at Tama’s magical outburst.

“No, he’s Qunari,” she snapped.

“Whether or not the Inquisition makes use of him is hardly your decision, dear,” the Enchanter pointed out.

“Then _you_ speak with him,” she said, her voice still shaking.

“Would it not mean more for _you_ to speak with him?” Vivienne returned. _Her_ temper was in control but Tama could _feel_ the heat from her fire wall. The Iron Bull had staggered backwards, and was… waiting. He bloody _knew_ that the Inquisition wouldn’t walk away. “You, after all, are the one who knows what you’re afraid of.”

Seconds ticked by and Tama shut her eyes. She doubted her father would approve of her drawing her fire away from a Qunari, but she did it anyway. “You’re right,” she ceded, running her hands against her face _(tabarnak_ she was covered in soot from her impulse cast). “Just… be ready.”

“I doubt he would dare attack you in so open a space, with humans at his back,” she comforted. Cassandra and Varric, thoroughly left out of the conversation, were watching The Bull warily. _Qunari_ was a universal word, one that she supposed a man from Kirkwall could at _least_ sympathise with her fear of.

“Unless they’re all _viddathari,”_ she groused, but turned to face the captain and his team. There was a Dalish elf hovering behind Krem, who brought up The Bull’s left side. He had an eyepatch and a leg brace now that she was examining him for weakness. She wasn’t sure if those would qualify the way she’d hoped— she _had_ just watched him decimate a group of cultists with a laugh.

“It seems the Inquisition is not bothered by snakes,” she said shortly. Another elf— on the Bull’s right— made a face that might’ve been a snarl. Tama assumed that meant she spoke Orlesian. Krem and her could understand, but the Dalish was simply watching.

“I’m a Ben Hassrath agent reporting to Qunandar. I’m here to inform on the Inquisition,” he said, ignoring her venom. Perhaps that was for the better, but it annoyed her anyway.

“We’ve got it covered. There’s your report,” she snapped.

“Yeah, that ain’t gunna cut it. Look, I’m trying to make this painless,” he said. “I’ll be straightforward, run my reports through your spymaster. What you’d be doing is preventing an invasion,” he said evenly.

_Fuck._

“It is not _my_ place to refuse you, but I’ll be watching. If you step out of line— “

“Qunari, remember? We’re good with staying in line.” If he was trying to reassure her, he could’ve saved his fucking breath.

“I don’t want to hear it,” she said coldly. “The _second_ Leliana tells me you’re not trustworthy then you’ll be out on your ass.” She didn’t bother to threaten him. He was big and a warrior and maybe he was afraid of mages but she wouldn’t rub it in his face. It was the sort of shit that gave Qunari ideas about _saarebas._

“And on fire, eh boss?” he said, hauling his hammer over his shoulder. She sincerely hoped he wasn’t going to try and be funny. It was a _long_ fucking walk back to Haven.

**Author's Note:**

> [My writing blog is here](http://nebulaad.tumblr.com) and sometimes I write for Vashoth and pretend like they have a culture.


End file.
